Babies 'R' Us
by The Bard of Rose
Summary: Cuddy's angst over her infertility. Hopefully more to come.
1. Chapter 1

The store's bright florescent lights reflected overwhelming shades of pastels. Sanitary soft blues, greens, yellows, pink and peach. She stood erect in the doorway between the censors wearing her power-suit, three inch heels, make-up, business and authority. The security camera's eye combed her body up and down; the machine seemed to sense that she was not welcome here. She couldn't bring herself to the point of stepping in. It was a department store for Christ's sakes, she was a costumer. Wasn't the mantra to get in, go out and back to work? Her breath was heavy; her body was at the point of producing tears.

A young boy that looked to be about seven came barging into the lobby. He took a carriage from the rack and began circling the small foyer. Lisa was the midpoint of his diameter; he made a low whirring noise, and wheeled the cart faster. All she could do was stand there; look at the security camera that projected her image and the little boy who was circling. Vulnerability was etched into her features. Suddenly, a woman appeared on the security camera too.

"Thomas" She said. Lisa could feel the resignation in this woman's voice. "Please."

The boy stopped in his tracks. He held eye contact with his mother for a brief time and then pushed the cart into the store on hyper-speed. He nearly knocked down the "baby registry" display. The woman put a hand on her protruding tummy.

"Children." She said. She rolled her eyes.

All Lisa could do was stand there. She could not speak this language, but she nodded as if she understood the very pregnant woman with tired eyes. The woman stepped into the store and Lisa followed her.

Lisa held the stack of papers in her hand tightly. Her hands were white and red at the knuckles from the strain. The papers were her cousin's baby registry. Lisa printed the sheet out online. Highlighted the gift she wanted. Memorized the section of the store which the item could be found. Told her mind to be on its best behavior. To function properly, rote, calculated, sans emotion. The mantra was to get in, go out and back to work. Years of medical school taught her that it was important to train the mind through a series of suggestions, phrases we repeat to ourselves to make it through the day, order and precision equals inner and outer harmony. That was how she became the Dean of Medicine at a renowned teaching hospital.

"In, out, back to work." She said it aloud. All in one breath holding the air she had left and exhaling it. She closed her eyes.

Her body began to walk toward the Decor section. She selected a "Winnie the Pooh" patchwork quilt bedding set from the registry. Displays of matching décor lined the back wall. In one foul swoop, expecting parents could fire their registry gun at everything in one display-- bedding that matched a mobile, a light, a piece of wall art, a changing table, a crib. Everything micromanaged and sequential, "Here's your room!" If everything in life were that easy. Lisa found the Winnie the Pooh section and with ease selected the present. Sighing, she mentally congratulated herself for a job well done.

She turned to leave, the bedding set bulging in her arms. Her toe stubbed against something hard. In a moment, she toppled over onto the floor, face first, clutching the bedding set in her hands, breaking her fall. She let out a whimper. No one had been watching. She was alone. Never in her life had she wished there was someone there to say, "Are you okay?" more 

than at that moment. Tears began to fall down her face. She looked up and realized that the offending object that had tripped her was a rocking recliner. A goddamned foot-stool.

She rose and kicked the stool hard. Her foot pulsated from the pain but she kept on kicking the stool and then the chair. She took her heals off and threw them against the linoleum floor. Her fists balled as she began to punch the back of the recliner. It connected with her fist and then it would bounce back for more abuse. She was huffing from the exercise, her chest heaving from the tears. She felt herself kneeling on the back of the chair and punching harder into the seat nearly propelling forward enough to flip over the chair. She became so tired that her arms couldn't even lift to hit the chair any longer. But the tears would not cease. She crouched in the chair, her bare feet under her skirt. Her body hunched together as the chair continued to rock. She shook, her labored breathing mirroring her body's convulsions.

She heard footsteps behind her. Her back straightened as if on cue. She began to rub her eyes. She felt a person towering over her but they did not speak. Perhaps they were a Babies 'R' Us employee or a paramedic sent to fetch the ballistic middle-aged woman having a fit in the department store.

But then, she felt an object being tapped against her back.

"Wakey, wakey. Lunch break is over. People dying."

Her in-take of breath was an audible gasp. Of all the people in the world. She stayed completely still, hoping the chair would swallow her up and never return her to existence.

"Cuddy," his voice was low, but firm.

"House." She was annoyed.

He crossed to face her and sat in the adjacent rocker. He picked his bad leg up and elevated it. A file was extended to her. "Consult."

Only he could bring her from complete self-deprecation to asserting anger with two syllables. Her eyes bore holes into his body. She refused to take the file. "How dare you follow me!"

"Oh please, you left a trail of tears to the scene."

"No! Why are you here?" Her body shifted to face him straight on, "You could have just as easily waited for me to return. Gloated over the fact that you noticed my make-up was smudged, and then you could later make some comment about my breasts being firmer."

"This was more interesting." He stated.

Her head cocked to the ceiling and she shook it back and forth in disbelief. "My pain interests you." She said to no one in particular. A statement whispered to the universe.

He bowed his head and glanced at her.

She stood, tried to iron out her suit jacket with her hands but she was so disgusted with herself that it didn't matter. She couldn't even look at him. She started to run to the front of the store. Leaving became her only salvation. Barefoot with disheveled hair and red eyes, she stumbled out to her car.


	2. Chapter 2

Retreating seemed to be her biggest coping mechanism. And the art of being in retreat for her meant disconnecting. Sitting in an empty house, in her living room, in the dark. The state of merely just being and letting your loneliness register over a cup of boiling hot tea. Clutching unto a scalding mug because the pain in her hands seems to be the only thing she wishes to focus on. The blank stare she directed at the empty television made her look as if she were in a state of complex seizure—a closing off to the world that was so intense that the body functioned on while the mind took a slumber. Her feet were still barefoot in nylons and tucked under her body. The shawl from her living room was wrapped around her.

A voice in the distance said, "You've reached Lisa Cuddy…" She was startled out of non-existence. The phone rang and she didn't even notice. She went to the machine and listened to the rest of her own voice. She wanted to answer the phone. It may be the hospital. It may be her mother or a friend. It was surely someone who wanted to talk to her enough to hold through her mail message to leave one of their own.

But she was screening. Wishing to avoid the inevitable exchange between her and the man that put her into catatonic bouts of grief. The tone beeped.

"Cuddy? Hi. It's Wilson. I… can't find House. He has a patient that needs a treatment of 500 CCs of methadalase for an intense skin infection. He went to get your consent this afternoon, but no one has seen him since then. And, this patient is in very critical condition…."

"Wilson." She said, picking up the phone.

"Oh, hi." She could feel his relief on the other end.

"Hi."

"Did you see House?"

"No. But, I'm coming in now to sign the consent papers." Lisa hung up the phone. The less Wilson knew; the better. She didn't want to lie to the oncologist, but telling him the truth right now was not in her strength. She had a job to do.

The hospital doorway looked bright and inviting. The florescent lights and sanitary smells never bothered her. The hospital was like a way-station, people dropping off, leaving, visiting, dying, there was never any permanence except for the employees and even then there was a shift change. When Lisa thought about it, she seemed to be one of the most permanent fixtures of the hospital. Her office was spacious; she had a full bath, a couch. Sometimes she did sleep there. It was a refuge. Paperwork never seemed so attractive to her than at that moment.

She walked into the lobby. Employees looked up, stared at her, smiled even. She was on display for them, their figure-head. Most of the time she truly wondered if people respected her. She made a direct line for the elevators to her office. Wilson was sitting outside the door in her assistant's desk; Michael must have figured he could go home today since his boss didn't even bother to come back for lunch. Wilson held out the consent forms, Cuddy took the forms from him and began signing her name.

"Apparently." He paused, "Nurse Brenda says you weren't here all day either. Since lunch. And, you didn't see House?" He tried to look into her eyes, but she ducked her head and continued to focus on the paperwork. She handed him the file.

"Cuddy?" he asked.

"You have my signature. Do your job. Go treat the patient." She began to walk into her office.

"You're in retreat, Cuddy. You're licking your wounds**."**

She was struck still at the entrance of her office by his words. Her hand on the door. She could feel a hand being placed on her back. She breathed, "Not now, Wilson."

"What did House do?"

She shook her head and went into her office. Closing and locking the door behind her. Wilson stood at the glass for a moment, but then turned and walked off down the hall.

Lisa sat in the dark office for a while on the couch. The red neon lights on the clock reflected back the time. It was 10:00pm. She felt guilt being locked up with her stacks of paper work and not at least attempting to stare at them. She brought her work to the table in her office and then turned on the light. She tied back her hair and held a pen in her hand and slightly tapped it against her cheek.

It was almost a year ago since she and Wilson sat in this office while she balled telling him the story of her failed fertility attempts. Wilson never spoke to her about that time since. But, occasionally, she could feel his eyes on her. Caring. Watching her interactions with House carefully. Lisa wondered if Wilson ever broached the topic with House about her "last stab" at Motherhood or if he even knew about the miscarriage. But, this thought was fleeting, she trusted Wilson. And, knowing House, Lisa was sure that she was not mentioned in their conversations beyond a sexual comment or perhaps an insult directed at her lack of objectivity when it came to patients.

She heard the handle to her office jiggling. Startled, she looked up to see House. She closed her eyes hoping he would disappear. When her eyes re-opened, she saw him holding up a shoe. Her red high heel.

She unlocked the office door, but did not move to invite him in; instead, she merely went back to her table and paperwork. He soon followed her. He sat in the chair opposite her, and put her pair of heels on the table with a slight bang. He wanted her full attention, but she was unwilling to give him the satisfaction. Unwilling to let him see her break down again.

"You didn't come back in today." He said.

"Neither did you, apparently. Where were you? Your patient was crashing!"

"Me? I was in Oz. Some munchkins thought I killed the Wicked Witch. Must have been those red heels I was carrying around. They want your broomstick, by the way. The Wizard said if I gave it to him I could have anything my heart desired. I chose a month off clinic."

"House." She was annoyed. She chose to look him in the eye, "Your patient could have died."

"I was in the process of getting the Dean of Medicine's permission for treatment; however, she was unavailable for my consult due to massive amounts of accumulated emotional baggage. Just tell that patient, oh well, bureaucracy's a bitch. Good thing Wilson saved your ginormous ass."

"Yes, good thing Wilson was here to look after _your_ patient." She was writing on her papers now, preparing to not look up at House again. She said, "Are we finished here? Because 

I don't remember inviting you in, and since your patient is being treated—finally—you can go home now."

House took that as his cue to leave. Lisa heard him walk to the door. His hand was on the handle as he opened it to leave. She was holding her breath for release, hoping to hear the door close. No sound came.

"Cuddy." He said, in a low voice. His face was directed at the floor.

"What?"

"You are a glutton for self-punishment. Going to a Babies 'R'Us…" He paused and looked her in the eye, "Stop willfully causing your pain." He closed the door behind her. Her eyes followed him down the hall until she could no longer see him.


	3. Chapter 3

Mirrors lined the foyer, giving the appearance of a large space. The high vaulted ceiling bore a crystal chandelier that radiated the space. The royal green carpet with burgundy flower accents ran along the tile floor and ended at the wooden double doors with stain-glass window. The room was stately, Victorian. And yet, on the knob of the solid-oak door hung a sign that was pale pink with magenta letters, "It's a Girl". Lisa smiled to herself as she thought it to be the trademark of tackiness left by her family.

She walked in to the hall to see streamers of pink and white, white seat covers and large pink carriage centerpieces on tables. Her family and Michelle's in-laws and friends were seated. The wait-staff busily bussed out trays, delivering food. The center table was circular, a pedestal of gifts precariously stacked upon it—a tower of wrapping paper ducks, sheep, ribbons and storks. She spotted her mother at the head table, sitting with Michelle and her aunt. Michelle waved Lisa over.

"You're late," said her mother.

Lisa looked her in the eye with a heavy stare, "Hospital business."

"Lisa, Lisa… what am I going to do with you?"

She sat down in the chair between her aunt and mother.

"Oh, give the girl a break. She works hard." Her aunt stroked her hair and kissed her on the temple.

"I'm glad you could make it today, Lise," said Michelle. Lisa half-smiled.

"Where's your gift?" Her mother's tone was accusatory, as if she thought Lisa was empty-handed.

"Envelope." Lisa took one out of her purse. "Where are you putting these?"

"Oh!" Said Michelle, "In the Wishing Well on the gift table. The well was from our wedding and I saved it for the baby shower."

"Oh. How. Nice. Excuse me." Lisa said.

She stood and began to walk gingerly toward the tower of presents. She wondered how long she could stay without having a semblance of a rude, early departure. The excuse was definitely work-related. Her assistant was to page her in two hours regardless. Everything for the escape route was set in motion.

Lost in thought, she felt a tap on her back. "Hey, what's up?"

It was Michelle's younger sister, Mary. She was only about seventeen, her hair was all black wiry curls and she wore thick glasses and bold colors. She was bright and quick-witted. One thing she was not was a favorite of the Cuddy family. Sarcastic, she spoke her mind, and definitely not the sort of young woman Lisa's mother found to be appealing. A silent woman was often a prized woman.

"Hey. Didn't see you at the table." Lisa took her into an embrace. Some of the family members were staring now. The cousin's reunion was often a spectacle, a uniting of two black sheep. The family rumor mill commenced.

"This shit is torturous. At least you have an excuse to come late and to leave when you please." She winked.

Lisa rolled her eyes, "I'm happy to be here."

"Cut the crap. It's us. Please say you think the wishing well is the stupidest thing ever. And don't tell me you didn't notice our ostentatious mark on the foyer entrance."

Lisa smiled. "I know. It's only one day." She said, but it was more of a reminder directed at herself than at Mary. "How's school?"

"Great. Half way through senior year. I'm going to a college in the Fall, Wagner. Have you heard of it? It's on Staten Island. They have a good theatre program."

"I think you'll really like college. I know I did. I really had a great time. Do everything you can, seriously. It, it goes by really quickly. And, then… you're old. You're old, like me."

"OMG, Lise. You're not old. P.S. you are like so good-looking. Seriously."

"Whatever."

Mary mocks her in a grumpy, low voice, "WHATEVER."

Lisa laughed.

"It's good to hear you laugh," said Mary.

Lisa shuttered. She felt awkward that someone half her age could pick up on her tension. She never knew she was that transparent.

"So, like, how's the hospital? That Dr. House giving you trouble, I'll kick him in his gimp leg. Only with your permission, of course." She smirked.

"House" She paused. "Well, House is House is House."

"Wow, way to be all 'adult' and 'cryptic'. We better get back to the table before your mother eats a small child."

The festivities continued on until the main event. The reason for attending a baby shower—the opening of the gifts. The inevitable "Ooooos and awwwws", as if the audience had never seen a lamp or a rattle in their entire existence. Michelle went through every gift painstakingly slow, reading each card, announcing the giver's name, opening the gift, lifting the gift up for all to see and comment and occasionally reading to the guests the purpose of the item, the mechanics of a diaper genie.

"This gift is from my aunt, Marie Cuddy." A crochet blanket was lifted from the gift bag. "Oh, she made this herself! Oh, it's so beautiful!"

Everyone agreed and directed their attention toward Lisa and her mother. Her mother began to speak, "Well, you know, I have no grandchildren of my own to make blankets for…"

Lisa's pager went off. She stood up quickly running to the entrance of the banquet hall. In the parking lot, she had reached her car and began to unlock it.

"Lise!" She saw Mary running to her in heels. Then, she took the shoes off and ran. "Lise!"

"I…" She stood in front of Lisa, breathing hard, her heels in hand. She reached up and wrapped her arms around Lisa in a tight hug. Before letting go, she grabbed Lisa's hand, squeezing gently.

"Goodbye," Mary said. She turned and ran back into the banquet hall.

Lisa stood alone.


	4. Chapter 4

Lisa returned to the hospital. She was still wearing her summer dress from the baby shower, a low-cut V-neck shape that ended at her knees covered in orange and pink shades of flowers. Brenda looked up from the Nurse's Station to see her walking toward her office.

"You look especially nice today, Dr. Cuddy."

"Huh?" Lisa said, unaware of everything around her.

"Your dress, it's nice," said Brenda.

"Oh, thanks." She replied. Distracted. Keeping her emotions in check until the salvation of her office. She continued to walk past Brenda.

"House is hiding, by the way. Supposed to be here an hour ago and no one heard him check himself in." She rolled her eyes. "Don't worry. Nothing illegal happened since you left. At least not that I know of…"

Lisa gave a hollow chuckle. "I'll be in my office."

She opened the door and closed it afterwards, re-locking it. The blinds were still drawn and she made no effort to open them. She flicked on the light, walking towards her desk. The anger in her would not subside. She couldn't keep face for long. Inside her was a forbidden desire to hurt herself, to make herself bleed. She saw the stack of papers on her desk, and immediately swapped them off, sending them to the floor. She screamed, soft and low pitched. Her arms flayed about as she began dumping everything from her desk.

She felt two large hands encircling her wrists, pulling her back towards his chest.

"Lisa." He whispered. His grip on her was tight. She was shocked by the sound of her first name on his lips.

"No! No! No!" She ripped her hands from House. And turned to face him, pounding fists into his chest. Hot tears streamed down her face. "Anyone but you!" She shouted, "Anyone but you!"

She felt her fists being grabbed. His cane thudded against the floor. "Stop." He whispered. He looked her in the eye. "You're upset. Tell me what happened."

She shook her head. She began to wipe the tears from her eyes.

"What happened at the baby shower?"

"How did you know… what…how…" She paused. Her eyes lit with sudden clarity. Her finger tapped his chest, "Are you spying on me, House? Is this all because you are merely 'interested' in me?"

"Dean of Medicine is too distracted to do her job. It involves me. I'm just looking out for myself here."

"Right." She said crossing him to stand behind her desk where he couldn't reach her. "Couldn't be that you happen to care about me?"

He frowned. "This isn't another- 'Do you like me, House?' conversation is it? Let me just dispel this myth right now. I care about myself--my track record in diagnostics. You can't make decisions about my patients if you are not in the right frame of mind."

She blinked in distaste. "So, you're saying that I'm incompetent?"

"I'm _saying_ that your emotions are clouding your judgment." She frowned at him. "The display that you just put on for me in your office proves I am right."

"Since you know everything about what is best for me and lately you have been so generous dispensing your advice. What do you suggest I do, huh?" She sat in her swivel chair and put her legs up on her desk. She felt in control now. She asked, "How can I alleviate your concern for yourself?"

"First of all, you can tell me what happened today." He limped to the chair opposite her desk and placed himself in it. He lifted his bad leg onto her desk mimicking her earlier motions. He reached into his pocket and dry-swallowed two of his vicoden.

She leered at him and waved her hand, "Oh, so you can laugh at me? Leer at my breasts a little while longer. No. Thank. You. House. You can leave now." Her eyes widened as she shooed him out of her office.

He stayed where he was, she sighed aloud. "This is why you throw things around and beat up on furniture, Cuddy. You don't talk about how you are feeling."

"Excuse me?"

"What?"

She was flabbergasted, "_I_ don't talk about how _I_ am feeling." She chuckled and rolled her eyes, "You're projecting."

"Yeah. This conversation is completely about me and _my_ inability to do _my_ job."

"This conversation is fulfilling some need for you on some level." Her head pointed to the heavens in a plea for strength.

"Oh, come on." His tone shifted to playful, light. "We're here to talk about your needs. If we were satisfying mine right now, you'd be half-nude, school-girl outfit, straddling your desk." He smiled at her innocently. And she fought with all her might not to laugh, not to be flattered that he fantasized about her. Her face registered an emotion between shock and smirk. She leaned back further in her chair, relaxing.

"As stimulating as this has been for me… Gotta go. My team is waiting for me on a differential. Kid keeps bleeding out his ears. Not exactly something you can win a ribbon for in the school science fair; although, it would make a daring Halloween costume."

He stood rather clumsily, forgetting that his cane lay on the floor. She noticed and immediately got up from her chair. Both doctors were bending over on the ground, starring each other in the eye. "You can start IVF again." He said.

She closed her eyes and breathed. "House."

He straightened and began to limp to the door. "I only suggest this so I can have an all-access pass to your ass." He waggled his eyebrows.

He opened the door toward the office and screamed. "Dr. Cuddy if you make one more comment about how you own my ass I will be forced to make a complaint."

He slammed her door, and all Lisa could do was stand there in wonderment.


	5. Chapter 5

She stood in the doorway of his office later that night. He sat by his desk, his lamp turned on, he was reading a medical journal. He looked engrossed by the article. Seeing him like this reminded her that he really did enjoy practicing medicine. For all his bitching, he liked his job. He lived for his job. He was here with her late at night, one of the few doctors that stayed the entire day; yet, he probably saw almost half of the patients the other doctors took care of in a shift. He certainly was a strange one, she thought. She smiled. That was exactly why she kept him all these years.

She didn't know whether or not to disturb him, he looked so peaceful. Her presence always made him tense, annoyed. Sometimes she felt guilty for the times she had to nag him. To police his practice of medicine, be the bad cop. But, this was a personal visit. And, she knew, the personal was even more draining on him. He had his Lisa Cuddy quota for today, but she wanted more.

The truth was she needed him.

She opened the door to the office.

"Ready for round two, Dr. Cuddy?" His words surprised her, she was unsure what he was referring to—the one-sided boxing match in her office, their banter, or could he mean another set of IVF treatments?

She sat in the chair opposite his desk. She was trying to find her voice. His eyes looked soft in his office light. He rubbed his temples.

"What were you reading?"

"Dean of medicine makes an elevator trip at 8:00pm to ask what I am reading?"

She smiled. "No."

"That dress, makes you look good." He is fumbling through his draws now, finding the place for his latest journal.

"Thanks."

"And by good, I mean it really shows off your administrative assets." He combed her body up and down with his eyes.

She smirked at him. "So." He said, "What's up?"

He looked uncomfortable. He stood now, hobbling to his recliner. Sitting in the dark corner of his office now. She was left alone by the light starring out his window. "You were right," she said.

"What would you be referring to now? I'm right about a lot of things. I lose track."

"I'm letting my emotions affect my judgment. I'm sorry I have not been focused on your patients. You deserve more than that, as a colleague."

She stood to leave. Sashaying to the door, she opened it quickly. "Wait." She heard. She stopped in the doorway. "That's it. You came to 'apologize' to me?"

She nodded.

"Cuddy."

She began to walk down the hall. She heard his cane from behind her, following. She quickened her pace. "I know you can beat me in a foot race. It wasn't you just trash-talking."

She continued. "Come on, Cuddy. Stop."

She turned around. "We're good, House. Leave it alone." He caught up to her and grabbed her elbow. She looked down at his hand and began to jerk her arm away.

"House." She eyed him. He tightened his grip. "For someone who says he doesn't care, you're pretty persistent. I don't know what your motive is now because we settled this professionally."

He dropped her arm. "Why must you insist you must hear my motive? You want me to say words that I cannot give you."

"What do you think I want to hear?" Lisa countered.

"You should go talk to Wilson" He said. "He is what you need right now. Someone to tell you everything's going to be okay. Confirm your faith in the universe and its rightness. He might even hold you if you are needy enough." He winked at her. "Go braless."

"No. As much as you think that is what I need, you're wrong!" She yelled. "I am a labeled glutton for self-punishment here, or at least that was your name for me. I don't need someone to reassure me." She grabbed his arm and looked him in the eye, "I need you to keep me aware of reality. Keep me going. Keep checking out my wardrobe and questioning my ass."

She blushed at her words, letting go of his arm and starring down at the floor.

"Cuddy." He said, "Look at me." He was genuinely smiling, a wide grin. "I can continue to keep you in check as long as you hold up your end of the deal in being an annoying, controlling, scantily dressed administrator."

He winked at her and took one last stare at her body in her dress. He began to limp toward his office. Lisa never loved him more than in this moment.


	6. Chapter 6

Every morning around 11am and before he left the hospital at night, House found some way of inserting himself into her schedule. He was himself, snarky, biting, he never stopped complaining. With him it was always consults, insults, and occasionally he would stop to tell her a story about his latest man-date with Wilson or read her a joke off the internet. His M.O., she believed, was always to avoid her. And yet, he made the trip to her office consistently since their conversation in the hallway. He went to clinic. He did his job. She didn't have to chase him around the hospital, looking in exam rooms and closets where he used to hide. Lisa was surprised with House, seeing him at her door every day. She learned to find it comforting, a routine.

This morning, for Lisa, marked the second week anniversary of whatever this was—dare she say—an understanding? She heard him knock on her door with his cane.

"Hey, Cuddy."

"Hi." She said. She smiled at him. "Good morning." She extended a mug to him.

He looked at her skeptically. "You offer me the blood of small children that you lured to your house with delicious treats? You haggard old witch!"

"Hot chocolate." She shook the mug in front of him.

"Oh. So, you are giving me treats to drug me so you can lure me into your lair and have your way with me sexually, take my man seed." He lifted his eyebrow and took the mug in his hand. "I totally dig that." He sipped and put his pointer and middle finger on his neck. "Pulse seems to be normal; maybe you drank the poisoned one. Or I am immune to your powers of evil. Mwhahaha."

She rolled her eyes. "Are you high? Dipping in to the patient's anesthesia again?"

"Oh ye of little faith and giant ass." He smirked. "Just read a joke about Bono that made me happy inside. Had to share."

"Bono as in U2?"

"Bono as in obnoxious, save the world, Jesus is my homeboy."

"Right. He cares about the welfare of others. Total jerk. The joke?"

"Okay. So. Bono is a pretentious fuck."

"Yeah. Got that." She began packing up her briefcase for a meeting. Looking through files.

"He's holding this concert for peace or something in Glasglow, Scotland. And, he tells the audience to remain silent. Then, he starts clapping. Once every couple of seconds into his mike." House begins to clap, Lisa looks at him with heavy eyes. "Have you heard this one?"

"No." She answers quickly, looking away. She zipped her briefcase and slid her heels on. She stood behind her desk ready to go for the board meeting.

"So. Bono says to the audience, 'Every time I clap my hands, a child in Africa dies.' And, he keeps clapping, right. And this ridiculous drunk Scott says, "Well, stop fuckin' doin' it then!'"

He laughed out loud, his boisterous tones flowing into the hallway. Cuddy smiled. "Cuddy, I am disappointed by your lack of participation in this joke. Wilson thought it was hilarious, nearly lit his eyebrows on fire with the heat from his laughter."

Cuddy laughed out loud now. House smiled at her. "Cuddy, I…"

Nurse Brenda came through the door, unannounced. She nearly tripped House. "Dr. Cuddy. Your cousin, Michelle, is in the emergency room. She's in labor, and she's asking for you."

"Oh, my god!" Cuddy was putting her hair in a pony-tail, ready for business. "Cancel my meetings!" She shouted to no one in particular. House hobbled behind her, admiring her ass as she speedily went down the hall.

"Cuddy." He said. "What's the deal?"

Her words were rushed, huffing, fragments of an explanation. "She's alone. My cousin. Her husband's on a business trip. She needs me." He continued to follow her, but she was unaware of his presence. She took the stairs, thinking he had left her.

"Ugh, cripple and stairs don't mix. I'll meet you!" He shouted.

"House? You don't have to come." She shouted to no one as he was already out of sight. She ran to the emergency room where she saw Mary and Michelle.

"Lise!" Mary said. "Thank goodness you're here!" She embraced her cousin.

"How far apart are the contractions?" Lisa asked.

"Every eight to nine minutes. She's in the early stage of labor. Look at her, she's still smiling." Michelle beamed with hope. Cuddy couldn't help but feel envious. "I have to leave soon, school."

Cuddy walked over to where Michelle sat in the wheel chair. She put her hand on Michelle's stomach. She could feel the uterus contracting in tightness. "You're having a contraction now. Baby's low. That's good." She told Michelle in a clinical voice. She half-smiled. "I'll get you a room."

She went over to the E.R. nurse's station.

Meanwhile, House arrived on the floor and found Cuddy's family.

"Hi." He held out his hand to Michelle. "I'm Dr. Greg House."

"Hello." She replied, taking his hand.

"_The_ Greg House." Mary stood in disbelief. "From what I hear from my cousin, you are a major pain in the ass."

"Mary!" Michelle yelled.

"No. My reputation normally precedes me. I respond to asshole on a regular basis." Mary glared at him, and he met her stare. Thoughtfully, he looked at Mary, examining her features. She felt uncomfortable, averted her gaze. His blue eyes penetrated her inner core. He whispered, "You look like Cuddy used to, in med school."

"House!"

"Speaking of the She-Devil!" He said aloud, rolling his eyes.

He took Michelle's wheel chair in his hands. "I assume you found her a room." He began to push the chair towards the elevators. His cane rested on his arm. "Helps to have connections, doesn't it." He said.

They all entered the elevator. "Four," Cuddy said. Mary pushed the number.

"Oh." Said Michelle, touching her stomach. She breathed.

"Eight minutes." Mary said.

"How are you feeling, Michelle?"

"I'm so scared. I wish David were here."

House put his hand on Michelle's shoulder. "You're in good hands." It was muttered, gruff, but Cuddy was surprised to hear the tone of reassurance in his voice.

--

Cuddy felt an extreme amount of pressure squeezing her hand. Cuddy was all the support Michelle had. The situation, for her, was surreal. Disconnected, her hand holding was mechanical, like an estranged nurse.

"Come on, Michelle, keep pushing." The OBGYN said.

Michelle was hyperventilating. "This is all wrong!" She screamed. "I need David here! This is all wrong!"

"Hyperventilating is not helping this baby. You're cutting off its oxygen supply when you do that. Come on, Michelle, you have to push," said the doctor.

"It's WRONG!" She screamed, "It's WRONG!"

Cuddy stood still, unable to offer comfort. She extricated her hand. "I… Excuse me, I feel sick." She walked out into the hall.

"I can't do this. I can't do this." Michelle muttered aloud over and over, she began to cry.

"Yes, you can." Said the doctor.

Another contraction showed on the monitor. Michelle screamed, but did not push. She writhed in the sheets. Her brow was sweated. "I can't!"

House dropped his cane and stood by her side. "Look at me." Michelle did. He grabbed her shoulders, practically shaking her. "You are here, Michelle! You don't push this baby out, it dies!"

"No!"

"Yes! God damn it!" He began to climb onto the bed behind Michelle. His thigh throbbed from the pain as he sandwiched her between his legs. He sat her up. Another contraction began. "Push!" He yelled. She grabbed onto his jacket sleeves and began to push.

"You're almost there, Michelle. Baby's crowning." said the OBGYN.

"I have to push again! Oh god!" She leaned against House and took both of his hands. Crying filled the room. "Oh god! Oh god!" Michelle said as the baby was pulled out onto her stomach and being cleaned by the hospital staff.

House pulled himself off the bed, bending over to grab his cane. He began walking towards the hall. He saw Cuddy standing by the window. She was crying, her hands gripping the window sill. He didn't look at her, but whispered. "It's a girl. Your cousin needs you." He clutched his thigh in pain and fished for his pills as he slowly moved down the hall.


	7. Chapter 7

The night was still. Light came from the street into her bedroom. She lay under the covers. Her eyes open. She was shaking, but not cold. Shocked. She completely froze today in the hospital. Admittedly, her cousin Michelle and she were not close, but she was depending on Lisa. She let her down, badly. The screaming, holding her hand, hyperventilating; a baby was coming into the world without its father. A mother labored alone. All Lisa could think was that she could have been in that position; could still be. Father an anonymous sperm donor. Screaming and holding a detached person's hand. It was all too close to home.

In the hall, all she could do was pace. Her limbs were weak, and her head spun. She was breathing heavily. Crying from frustration. She clutched the window sill of the room and watched House, an admittedly damaged and emotionally retarded individual; perform an act that she could not. When he exited the room, he didn't even look at her. He must have thought her to be pathetic, disgusting. She could barely face herself these days without feeling that she indeed was these things.

She heard a knock in the distance. She thought it sounded like cane; she did not know if she wanted it to be him. She sprung from her bed. On her way out of the room, she looked at her robe. She decided against it, she would reward him for his deed of humanity for the year.

The door opened to reveal him in a band tee and jeans. She stepped aside and he came in to her foyer, making his way to her living room. She trailed behind him, unsure of what to say to him. This was completely unlike any night encounter they have ever had, which normally involved him screaming at her that his crazy idea was best for the patient, throwing files in her face, staring at her with hungry eyes that left her vulnerable and naked before him. He sat on the couch.

"Can I get you something?" Her hands were still shaking.

"Sit." He said, motioning toward the arm chair across him.

She obeyed. Her body was rebelling, she shivered before him. She made her voice sound calm, confident. "Something wrong with your patient?"

"What happened today?"

She stood, walking to her foyer. "Nothing."

He followed her, "I know you haven't actually practiced doctoring in many years, but it is a bit curious to me to see the Dean of Medicine get queasy during a routine medical procedure, such as birth. So unwell that she is forced to exit the room in tears. Why is that? I am forced to ask myself, how can that be?"

"House. I can't take you now." Her voice squeaked, "You'll destroy me." She shook and pleaded with him, her eyes silently urging him to leave.

He tapped his cane on the floor. His head was bowed. She opened the door, her eyes peering out into the night. He followed her gaze and stood on her porch, facing her. She waited. "Feeling alone is sometimes…it's…goodnight," he said. She watched him walk to his motorcycle. She closed the door and leaned against it, closing her eyes in relief. She heard the rumble of his bike speed down her street.

--

The next morning House did not come into her office. Lisa didn't expect him to show, and she also didn't expect him to ever talk to her the same way again. He would be afraid to 

break her, his reason for staying away. House's caring was from a distance believing that the object of his interest would get burned if she or he came to close. Lisa saw him do this with many friends over the years, to many women, his latest being Stacey. Maybe he was trying to tell her that being alone was not a bad thing; that it was better than being emotionally hurt by another or being in physical pain. There was no way to broach the topic with him, and Lisa had to believe that he would come to see her in his own time.

She walked down the halls of the maternity ward until she came upon the observatory. She stood countless times in front of this glass, purposeless and a waste of time. This time; however, her newest little cousin was in her crib. Lisa walked inside the doors.

"Dr. Cuddy," said Dr. Kohl.

"Hi, I'm here to see my cousin's baby, Michelle LePointe. I don't know what the baby's name is…"

"Oh, yes! She's related to you? Funniest thing ever, well, it's not exactly funny just surprising to us in NICU…."

"It's funny that we're related?"

"No. Your cousin named her baby- Morgan House LePointe. I don't know if you heard, but House practically birthed the kid with her in the delivery room. Patterson, Michelle's attending, said she never saw him do anything like that. Unbelievable. Wish we all got that one on tape. The one time House does something humane, he gets a kid named after him to inflate his ego even further." Dr. Kohl smiled.

"Go figure," Lisa rolled her eyes. "May I hold her?"

"Of course!"

Lisa sat in a wooden rocker in a private room adjacent to the NICU. Usually parents were able to visit their sick babies in here, but Lisa was holding her healthy, eight pound six once cousin. The baby had a large head, her coloring was red. Her eyes were a light shade of brown and her hair was dark.

"Hi, Morgan. It's your cousin Lisa." The baby seemed to be looking at her, although she knew it was impossible for an infant to understand sounds, colors, anything. "Hi." The baby cooed. Lisa changed the baby's position in her arms to vertical, patting Morgan's back to allow her to burp after eating her lunch. She began to hum to the child, "You Are My Sunshine".

The door swung open. "House!" The baby slackened in her hands for a moment, but then she tightened her grip.

"I came to see my namesake."

Lisa put the baby back to horizontal again. House peered at the baby and began to do a physical exam. Pulling the baby's limbs out and in, Lisa could see him going through a diagnostic checklist in him mind's eye.

"Are you serious?" She asked.

"What? I don't want one of these NICU doctors missing something. I don't trust Patterson. Kohl's fine. Thinks that it's so rich some parents decided to name their kid after me—jerk." He continued to examine Morgan and when he was satisfied, he stood. "Reflexes are good. So, is respiratory function. Heart. I already checked her chart before the exam. Kid's healthy."

She smiled. He watched her with the baby, stroking Morgan's cheek. "You have a weird way of showing you care, House."

"I don't care." She looked at him in disbelief. "I don't. I'm just happy my name will be passed down, a little part of me now lives forever!"

She rolled her eyes. The baby started grabbing at her hair. Lisa looked down at her, "Do you like my hair?" She said, "Someday you are going to have pretty brown locks like me."

"Hopefully, she won't inherit your ridiculously large ass and even bigger emotional asphyxiation."

"Hopefully, having your 'namesake', as you call it, won't lead her to believe she knows everything about everything and thus shut her off to all human communication."

"It's a good thing neither of us had children."

The comment bothered her. The finality of the parentless sentence. The use of the past tense in her baby-making abilities. Little Morgan tugging on her hair and knowing that a baby of her own may never do that, that she will never experience motherhood. He said the comment in passing; she knew that he unintentionally hurt her.

He must have noticed her attitude shift. "Well, neither of us has children yet, is what I meant to say." When she didn't respond, he said, "I actually meant to say that I would be an awful parent. You know, first lesson for Greg Jr. would be telling him that 'Everybody Lies' and the second would be making him believe that everyone around him is an idiot."

She didn't say anything.

"Lisa?" He asked.

"I'm fine." She said.

"I didn't ask if you were fine."

"It was implicit."

"Okay. Dr. Cuddy. Well, gotta go. Helping birth children and saving the lives of my fellow man and all that." He looked at the clock, "Eh, who are we kidding? It's just time for GH. Maria is going to find out whether or not her son is going to be able to come out of the coma or remain a vegetable his entire life. Interesting stuff."

He was at the door.

"House?"

"Yes?"

"What were you going to say to me last night?"

"Wilson once told me that feeling alone is a state of mind and that no one is really alone. I was going to offer you a Wilson platitude, but I couldn't say it seriously without barf spewing from my mouth, so, I refrained."

She smiled, "Thank you."

"Bye Cuddy. Child who is named after me." He winked and closed the door.


	8. Chapter 8

On Saturdays Lisa went for long runs through the suburbs of New Jersey. On a run she would carry nothing with her but her key and on her wrist a runner's mace band. The cell phone and pager no longer ruled her. Her blood pumped through her veins. Expanding capillaries, sending adrenaline out to her limbs, her brain light. She never felt happier than after a good run. Safe in her house, she would down an entire water bottle and take a long, relaxing shower.

It was summer now, and sometimes she would see children running through sprinklers in front yards, pass people walking their dogs. Lisa would smile, they would wave at her. She was a familiar face to them in their neighborhood by now. An old woman that lived three blocks away from her would, like clockwork, be watering her garden. In the summer, she had beautiful pink and white hyacinth plants that lined her white fence.

She held out her arm and clapped her hand together, "Hello, dear," Mrs. White cried.

Lisa held up her hand as a crossing guard does and smiled as she jogged past.

Often she would pass his apartment complex. Lisa would look to see if he was home. Rationally, she did not want to see him. He would say some biting comment about her stalking him. And, Lisa knew, it was the truth. But, just once, she hoped he would be taking out the trash, coming home from coffee with Wilson. Like all other Saturdays, he was nowhere to be found. He was shut up in those walls, safe inside his apartment, his own island. Lisa assumed that he mostly spent his Saturdays moping, honestly believing he could not do anything because he was a "cripple." Drinking bourbon and watching The Discovery Channel.

Today, she stood at his apartment entrance, framed by the concrete cylinder arch-way. Her breath was heavy from exorcising. She tried to control her breathing as she made her way down his hall. Not second-guessing herself, she knocked at his door.

He opened it. "Hi!" She was smiling.

He looked at her, puzzled. His face scrunched up in a scowl. "Did you come over to invite me on a run?"

"It's a nice day today. I thought maybe you could…" The apartment door was slammed in her face. She stood in front of it for a while, head down, sulking from his apparent rejection. She placed her palm on the door. "I thought you could walk me home!" She yelled.

He looked at her through the key hole. Her brown hair so close to him, literally separated by a wall but in his mind she might as well have been an ocean away. He mirrored her actions placing his palm on the door. He sighed.

Suddenly, he opened door. Lisa fell forward a bit into the apartment. His right arm caught her and gripped on to her tight, they were balancing each other. He let her go, "Buy me some food and I'll go on a walk with you."

He started for the door without her answer.

"Hey."

He turned.

"You going to wear jeans in ninety degree weather? It's hot out."

"I can see that by the fact that you are wearing close to nothing." He eyed her, and she suddenly felt self-conscious in her tank and knee-length spandex. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Shorts?" She asked.

"I don't wear shorts." She gave him a sideways glance. "Are we going to go or not, Mommy? This was your stupid idea anyways."

She rolled her eyes, and walked under his arm as he held the door open for her. On the stoop of his complex, Cuddy bent over to tie her shoe. He pulled out his bottle of pills.

"House," she said.

"We're walking over a mile, Cuddy."

"You're supposed to take the pain pills to relieve pain, not to prevent it."

"Oh my god, are you a doctor? That's so funny. Cause I am too." He opened the pill bottle, but then felt a tug on his pant leg.

"Take them after the walk, House." He began to walk off alone, putting the pills back in his pocket. He was going full limp ahead. Cuddy stood and began to rush to keep up with him.

"Could you slow down?"

"Am I beating you in a foot race?"

"If I say, 'yes' can we enjoy a leisurely walk like other couples!" At that moment, she wished she could eat her words. He came to a full stop. She caught up to him. Her eyes staring at the sidewalk. She felt her hand being tugged into his. He rubbed his thumb across the top, possessive and forceful. "Only if we hold hands." His voice was gruff. He was doing this to prove a point, to get back at her for the suggestion that they could be anything more than what they were. Despite holding her hand, he was building a wall.

She felt herself dragging behind him. He was pulling her full weight while he clutched his cane tightly. His lips were pierced. He was in pain.

They were almost at her house. "Lisa!" She heard from behind. It was Mrs. White; she was still gardening with her wide-rimmed hat and gloves. "Yoo-Hoo!"

House stopped, clutching her hand tighter. They turned.

"Mrs. White…" Lisa said.

"Is this your boyfriend, Lisa?"

"Well…" House squeezed her hand really tight. "Ow! Yes!" She said.

He let go of her hand, extending it to Mrs. White, "Greg House. Nice to meet you."

"How long have you been together, Lisa?"

At a cross-roads, Lisa didn't know the correct choice. The answer that would please everyone in this ridiculous situation. Lisa put an arm around House's waist. She rubbed his back. "Oh, since I hired him about…"

"It's our tenth anniversary." He finished the answer. He draped his arm over her shoulder; they were now side by side. He pulled Cuddy into an embrace and gently kissed her cheek. She could feel his smirk by the outline of his stubble.

"Oh! And you two aren't married yet?"

"We're doctors. You know, we don't have time for a full-time commitment to each other, like marriage." said Lisa.

"Oh, that's too bad. You're still young; you two can have a family." House felt Cuddy stiffen under his hands.

"Maybe we will have a family someday." He whispered into her ear. He rubbed her back thoughtfully. "On our own terms." He sounded sincere, caring. "We have a dinner date to get to, though, so, we can't chat." He took Lisa's hand again, "Nice to meet you" he chimed.


	9. Chapter 9

_I hate doing author's notes, but I just wanted to advise people reading that this next scene contains adult content. I am sorry if this is offensive to some readers, but I once had a professor who said, "You can never have enough nooky in a novel" and I firmly believe this to be true. I wouldn't say this is smut… but it is risky. Thanks for reading and reviewing!_

Nothing was said as he rushed her from Mrs. White's to the steps of Lisa's house. "Bye." He said as he huffed down her driveway.

"Excuse me!" She ran after him. "What the hell was that?"

"It was 'us' playing a 'game', Cuddy. Like we always do."

"Are we a game, House?"

"You show up at my door on a Saturday to ask me to take a walk! I'm a cripple! You started this ridiculous game today and I ended it. Now, don't play again until you've retreated and cried over your paperwork and we'll have another go at this again." He began to walk away from her. His thigh gave from under him; he clutched it falling to the ground.

"House!" She went down beside him.

"Son of a bitch!" He screamed.

She snaked his arm around her and lifted him up. "Help me!" she said.

"You did this to me! Not letting me take my vicoden. What kind of a doctor are you?" He was holding onto her waist. When they got to the steps, she sat him down and he writhed in pain. She reached into his pocket and took out to vicoden. "Swallow," she said.

He began to message his thigh, but she put both her hands of the sensitive area. Lisa straddled his lower leg as she kneaded into the skin so hard she could feel his deformity. "Ahhh." He sighed in pain.

She continued to rub with increasing pressure, in tight, small circles. He put his hands into her hair and pulled her to him, encircling her waist; his hand snaked up her tank top and splayed over her lower stomach. Their lips clashed, teeth grinding against each other. House forced her to open her mouth for his tongue as he moaned into her, desperate for release, for a feeling other than pain. Lisa wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. When their lips parted, she stared at him.

"Why?..."

He reached his hand under her shirt and unclipped her bra, "I want you," he croaked.

She was taken aback by his sudden ambush. She held his hand away from her body. "You can't always get what you want," she said.

She stood above him on the step now. He was still in pain, breathing irregularly. The look on his face was surprise. "What about need?" He whispered.

"You need to have sex with me?"

"You clearly need it. Blind dates wearing no bras, stitching that red letter on your tots. I could answer that ad you put in the paper for a submissive bed mate?"

"That date was a half a year ago!" She screamed. She gasped, looking at the sky, "You never forget a date I go on, do you?"

The sky looked ominous. A storm seemed to be approaching; she had barely noticed the change in sunlight. She unlocked her door and stepped inside. "A little help?" She heard him say as she took her shoes off in the foyer. "Come on." Lisa extended her hand and he limped inside her living room sitting on her couch and putting his bad leg on the chair opposite. She stood in front of him and he put his hand on her hip and squeezed, "We don't have to use protection." He said.

"House." She said, exasperated.

"You want a baby, Cuddy? I can… you know…"

"You can give me one?"

"Sure."

She shook her head, "Uh, no."

"This is about needs, Cuddy. You need sex. You need sperm. I need sex. And, by fulfilling the needs, we may just get a bit of what we want."

"This is totally why people hate you. You are manipulating me to get what you want."

"People hate me, but you don't? Do you?" He said, drawing circles with his fingers into her hip. His face was, thoughtful, anticipating her response. She couldn't hate him, not when he looked at her that way.

"No." She said, with a regretful tone. House grabbed her wrist and pulled her on top of him. His kiss was slow, different to the previous one. His lips were soft and his hands reached into her hair, pulling her closer to him. When they parted lips, he encircled her waist and pulled 

her on his lap. He inhaled the scent of her hair, bunching a piece of it in his palms. She took House's head between her hands. His eyes stared at her, curious and pleading.

She kissed him. "Bedroom?" She asked.

--

Cuddy straddled him on top, they were both close. "Cuddy," he panted. "Baby …" She didn't understand what he was trying to say. She kissed him, hoping he would stop talking and let the moment happen. Instead, he flipped her on her back and stood on the side of the bed. She was confused, afraid he was calling this off, and that he was going to leave her alone. His eyes were still so full of desire staring at her breasts exposed, bobbing with breaths.

Grabbing her foot, he dragged her to the edge of the bed. He lifted her legs to wrap around his waist. Hunching over her, his body began shaking and his leg throbbed in pain. He entered her then. Both screamed; pain and pleasure. He thrust in and Lisa gasped. Their motion became quicker, more desperate for relief. House reached down and began to message her nub. "Let go." He insisted though clenched teeth. She bucked her hips upward, her hands fisted the sheets, and she closed her eyes and let out a trail of moans. Her walls clenched down around him and he pulled her legs up even higher to his chest, changing his angle, deep. He emptied himself into her. "Lisa," her name a whispered sigh for only himself to hear.

Moments later he grabbed his clothes and walked into her living room. No words were spoken. He re-entered the bedroom.

"House? You okay?"

"Fine," he said. House was fully dressed and carrying two pillows from her living room. He walked to her side of the bed and stripped the sheets off her. He grabbed her ankles and shoved the both pillows under her butt. "According to my track of your menstrual cycle, this was the most fertile time of the month for you. We had sex in the optimum position for conception. Your orgasm occurred before mine—also favorable. The pillows are a measure to improve chances as well. With your permission, I'd like to try something called deep uterus message therapy" His voice was stale, clinical. An observer would never believe that these two individuals had just done one of the most intimate activities together.

Her mind was cloudy with details, "What?"

"I read about this technique in a journal out of India. The trial studies showed that when the uterus contracts after sex, the woman is about 15 more likely to conceive. The procedure is somewhat uncomfortable…"

"Am I your patient?" She asked.

"If you consent to be."

"Is that what 'this'" She waved her arm back and forth between her and him; she was in a state of disbelief. "Is that what this was about? Us having sex, so you can try some new clinical study out?"

"Yes. Absolutely. Cameron is my control group. I'm not going to message her after we do it. I figure you have seniority over her."

"I…don't touch me." said Lisa.

"Look at me." She raised her eyes to him. "This is what you _need_."

She exposed her lower abdomen to him and faced the opposite wall, refusing to look at him. It was about as much consent as she could give him. He raised her arms on to the headboard and silently instructed her to wrap her hands around the bars. Her body was stretched, taut. He took his elbow and pushed hard into her uterus. "Ow" Cuddy screamed. He began doing this motion repeatedly, three times and then he would rub with his elbow vertically from her vagina to abdomen. Instead of the tenth blow, he laid his hand on her. She could feel her lower body pulsating in pain, her breathing was staggered. "Contraction." He said. The look on his face was similar to when he solved a complex medical puzzle, he seemed satisfied.

He stood and took his cane from her bedpost. "I'll be monitoring your progress." He left her alone. Lisa crawled under the covers, ashamed. Her stomach throbbed with the pangs of new life. Her back to the door, she wished to never get out of bed again. Tears began to line her cheeks.


	10. Chapter 10

House stood in the center of her office, sucking on a red lollipop. "Patient needs a first class ticket to the North Pole!" He exclaimed.

"What?" She asked, annoyed. Their relationship was strained. His presence made her sick, a feeling of violation she had never felt with another person before him. This is exactly why relations with co-workers are never a good idea, she scolded herself.

"Put him on ice. Stop his heart. Clean his blood from the toxins that are shutting down his liver. Do I have your consent?"

"Why are you even asking my consent? You always do what you want anyways."

"I'm asking because you're the boss lady. You sign my paychecks still, right? You'd have my ass if I didn't ask." He pointed the pop at her. "What is this really about, Cuddy?"

"Your patient." She said, sitting down in her desk slowly, dramatically. She rubbed her temples. He was still towering over her. "Go. Do your job." Her voice was pleading.

"Are you feeling tired?"

"Tired of your conversation." She pointed to the door, "Leave."

"Wait, I'm supposed to be the insulting and misanthropic one. You're the sentimental deliberate gentle love dreamer who cries over patients and yet you barely looked at my patient's folder." He extended his hand, "Give it back if you're not going to do your job."

"I am doing my job!" She screamed. "I looked at your patient's file before you even came in here. I diligently look over all your patients because I try to cover your ass when you do 

something stupid and illegal." She stood and shoved the file into his chest, smacking him. "Go! Freeze your patient."

He opened the door of her office and screamed into the hall, "Stop undressing me with your eyes, Dr. Cuddy!"

She watched him limp down away. She sat back down at her desk, looking over expense reports for the last conference trip for the psychology department. Her office door swung open. "I said to go away House!"

"Cuddy."

"Wilson." She sighed. "I'm sorry, I thought you were… um, what's up?"

"I was wondering if we could talk about funding for a clinical trial out of Boston for one of my leukemia patients. He's perfect for the qualifications and this may give him some more time." Lisa was distracted; she tried to concentrate on what Wilson was saying.

"Cuddy?" He asked. "Do you want to discuss this later?"

"Oh. No. We can talk now." She put the paperwork aside and put her full attention to Wilson.

"Something wrong?"

"No."

"House?"

"Wilson… please."

"No. You and House have been weird lately, almost a month you guys have been more tense than usual. I, well, I asked House what was up and he told me that you were fine and that I should mind my own business, and that I shouldn't mention my observation to you in the case of making you more upset. It seemed almost like a caring move by him, but then he immediately followed that by saying something about you getting exponentially more annoying with age."

Lisa smirked at this comment. "House and I are as we always are, you know that."

"Are you?"

Wilson looked into her eyes now and she had to avoid his hazel orbs. His looks could penetrate through her. Out of everyone, he would be the one to notice the difference, to suspect that her and House had more than what met the eye.

"I'm fine." Lisa tried to smile.

"Lisa?"

She sighed. "House and I are, um, we've been more…"

"Intimate?" said Wilson.

Lisa felt her cheeks flush. "If that is what you call it. It's complicated. And, right now, I am very upset with something he did or rather something he did not do. I was just… well; I thought he was capable of more than he can give. I don't know what I was expecting with him. I need to learn to live with my disappointment."

"House is a lot of things—a jerk, a cynic and often very verbally abusive. But, I think there is evidence there that he cares and maybe if you think of his actions more than his words it will help you see how he tries to care. How do you think we've been friends all these years?" Wilson shook his head in disbelief. "Or, I could just be a glutton for punishment."

"Oh, I think we both are," said Lisa. They both chuckled aloud.

"I got to go, Cuddy. I have a consult in ten minutes. Can you schedule me in to talk about the trial tomorrow morning?"

"Yeah." Lisa checked her computer planner. "Nine?"

"Sure. Have a good day." He said as he walked out the door. Sometimes she wished to have a man like Wilson, dependable, supportive to a fault, but she knew he would suffocate her. No, what she needed was someone to measure with her, toe to toe. What she needed was House. She leaned back in her chair and sighed.

She lay in bed at night unable to sleep. Lisa thought about what Wilson told her. Maybe she should have focused on House's actions, the fact that he did do everything in his power to help her conceive. Reflecting on the situation Lisa had to admit that House was unselfish in the bedroom, performing sex in a position that probably was quite painful for him and then waiting for her orgasm first because he felt it would improve the chances of a pregnancy. He may have been cold, rude, awful post-coitus, but maybe he was just doing that to push her away, to make her think that he did not care, that he was only having sex with her to give her to give her a child. But all Lisa could think of was when his eyes scanned her nude body, the way he smelled her hair and gently messaged her clitoris until she rode out her orgasm, how he lifted her body even 

higher and the adoration on his face when he came, he whispered something then. Lisa vainly wished it was her name.

She put her hand on her stomach. There was a bruise just below her belly button, an indentation from his elbow. It was sore under the light pressure of her fingertips. She didn't feel differently since they had sex. She didn't think she was pregnant, that despite House's efforts, it was all a failure. Yet, there was no anticipation or curiosity in finding out whether or not she was pregnant as she had felt when trying to conceive through the IVF. A part of her wanted to not be pregnant, to not let House have the satisfaction that he was right, that he gave her what she needed. A bigger part of her wanted this baby.

There was a pregnancy test in her nightstand. A left over from the IVF days. She could find out right now. Alone in her bathroom. Crouching by a test that her happiness seemed to depend on, it would be too much for her to handle if she was negative again. The clock read 9:00pm. She had been laying there since about an hour. Her phone rang.

"Hello." She answered.

"We thawed the ice-cube out. Patient's liver function is improving. Looks like she'll be fine."

"Oh."

"You in bed?"

"Yeah. Sleeping. Night House."

"Don't hang up."

She stayed on the line, silent.

"You take a test?"

"No."

"Take the test, Cuddy." His voice was insistent.

"Why? So you can tell if you are right? If your little scheme worked."

"You don't want me to be right?" He asked.

"No."

"Take the test."

"I will take the test when I want to take it." She slammed the phone down.

She got out of bed now and turned on the light. Lisa opened the draw to the nightstand. The First Response package faced her. A "POS" or "NEG" reading, the result that meant so much to her, she willed her body to reproduce. She rubbed her stomach affectionately. The test in her hand, she walked to the kitchen. She placed the test on the table and stared at it, wondering if she should just throw it out.

She decided it was best to try to go back to bed. Lisa put a pot of water on to boil. Sleepy Time tea had put her to bed many nights. She stood on her stool and rummaged through her cabinets. There was knock on her kitchen door. It was a cane. She stood by her kitchen window and shook her head.

"Let me in, Cuddy!"

She still stood, looking at him outside. He was in sweats. He looked tired, perspired.

"I'm going to wake the neighborhood. Mrs. White!" He screamed. Lisa hurried to open the door.

"You are such a child! God!"

He made his way into her kitchen and sat in her chair. "I'd love a cup of tea, Dr. Cuddy. Thank you." He took out two vicoden and swallowed them.

"Did you walk here?"

"Yup. Promise I waited to take my vicoden until after the mile walk."

He picked up the pregnancy test in his hand. He silently extended it to her.

"House."

"Cuddy," he shook the box at her. When she did not reach for it, he began to open it taking out the applicator. "Huh." He studied the stick. "These things are really accurate now. You can take them a week after you have sex."

"Yeah." She said, "Read that on the insert."

He smiled. "You know, I could pee on this, but it would be less fun."

"I don't want you here," she said.

She placed a cup of hot tea in front of him. He grabbed her hand. "Yes. You do."

She extricated her hand, "No, I do not."

"Do so to want me here." He placated a child. She rolled her eyes at him. "The truth is, Cuddles, your biggest fear is being alone for this." Again he extended the applicator, "Take the damn test."

"Maybe this weekend. Okay? Then I don't have to go to work the next day. I'll call you with the results, doctor."

His arms encircled her waist. "I'm here now," he said. His palms pushed on her bruise. She gasped. He lifted her pajama top and lowered the bottom. The black and blue was exposed, a large elbow mark. House touched the raised area with his fingertips. "I didn't realize… that… take the test, please." His voice was a whisper.

"Okay." She heard herself say. She grabbed the stick from him.

When she emerged from the bathroom, he was standing by her kitchen table, pacing the length of the room. "Why are you nervous?" She asked.

"I'm not."

"Everything, to you, has a reason, a motive. Some sort of explanation for why we do things. What does this test mean to you?"

"You're deflecting because it means everything to you." He stated. "You want me to say it means something to me so I can have a stake in this."

"Why are you here then, House? If you don't care what the results are, why stick around? Curiosity? Would you care to watch me cry again?" Her voice was angry, taunting. She was pushing him away, just as he did to her many times. He closed his eyes and silently listened to her tirade.

"Are you even listening to me!?"

"Do you really want to be in this frame of mind when you find out the results?" He walked into her living room now and lay on her couch. She followed him, "Plus, if there is a fetus, it will have half my genes. That accounts for some curiosity."

"What does having your genes mean to you?"

"Let's not do this now, Cuddy. You'll have nine months to interrogate me before Cuddy Jr. makes a grand entrance. How long do these tests take?"

"Five minutes."

"Good God, woman. Why aren't you in that bathroom?"

"I can't!" She started sobbing. Her breaths were short and she began to shake. He stood in front of her and she hugged him hard. He was still, unable to give comfort in words or physically. He hated himself for being stoic. Supporting a stranger is easy. No expectation. They are surprised and glad you could lend a hand. Lisa meant much more to him. His hand went to her back now; he was rubbing up and down.

When they broke apart, Lisa looked up at him. His expression was awash in concern. She cupped his face in her hands. She guided him down to her and kissed his forehead. When she let go, she took a step away from him and breathed deeply. "Okay," she said.

She walked toward the bathroom and he followed her. The door was closed. She opened the door and went inside. When he went to follow her, she said, "I think I should do this alone. I don't want to… you can go home?" She offered.

"I'll be in the living room." He said.

Moments later Lisa emerged from the bathroom in tears. She ran to the living room. House didn't let her speak; he wrapped his arms around her, his hands moving up and down her shoulders. "I'm sorry, Lisa." He said.

She began to cry harder now. She extended the test to him. He read the results. POS. She was crying tears of joy! In that moment, he pulled her into a wet kiss.


	11. Chapter 11

She pulled away from his lips, surprised. She stepped away from him and began to dry her eyes. "Do you kiss all your patients?" Her tone was questioning, serious. She wanted him to tell her that she was special, more than a charity case or clinical obsession.

"Only the hot hospital administrators." He waggled his eyebrows. She rolled her eyes. Lisa knew that she shouldn't expect the validation she so wanted from him. He sat back down on her couch and took out a prescription pad. "I'm going to write you a prescription for vitamins. Because at your age—well, you know the risks. I scheduled a room for you for an ultrasound on Friday, 6:00pm., before you leave. I will oversee your prenatal care through the first trimester, and then you need to get an OBGYN. If you're going to stay at Princeton, I think you should go with Kohl."

He handed her the prescription for the prenatal vitamins. She sat on the couch next to him. "You made an appointment?" Her voice in space, not directed at him.

"I knew you were pregnant." He said, his voice was airy, a whisper, "I felt it."

He took out a pocket notepad. "Parent history" He said.

"Let's see…mother, Lisa Cuddy." He wrote as he talked aloud. "Father…the Holy Spirit." He looked at her, no response. He waved his hand in her face, "Cuddles?"

"Huh?" She asked, confused. Her hand went to her stomach. A smile appeared on her countenance for the first time. "We did it."

"Yes." He said, staring at her with concern. "History. Cuddy?"

"Oh."

"Any history of miscarriage, pre-term labor, preeclampsia, diabetes, anemia, heart condition, bacterial infections? Parents still alive? I need to know _everything_."

"My parents are living." She said, "My father has hypertension and high cholesterol. My mother has osteoporosis and arthritis. But, there are basically healthy. Your parents?"

"My mother had breast cancer in her forties, but she survived. My father is unfortunately going to outlive me."

She smiled. "Are..." she started. "Are you going to tell your parents that the baby…"

"No." He shook his head. "We tell _everyone_ it's a sperm donor. Wilson will figure out that it's mine. But nobody else knows." She fell back into the couch, slouching. She looked disappointed. "We both have reputations to protect. If the board found out…" He continued.

"I understand," she answered.

He continued to write down their history. "I have a history of infarction. You have a giant ass chromosome. Do you have anything else?"

"Corrective lenses?" She offered. She was 100 percent healthy, except for her reproductive system.

"And, on to the hard pregnancy history questions… is this pregnancy your first?"

"No."

"Dr. Cuddy, you minx. Was it a college affair?" He winked at her. She remained silent. He put his hand on her knee. "Oh, god. It wasn't mine, was it?"

"No."

"Did you carry to term?"

"No. Miscarriage." Her voice was soft.

"How old were you when you miscarried?"

"Forty" she answered.

He looked up from his pad. "Last year? During the IVF. You didn't say anything." His face was sad, accusatory. He wished she had confided in him.

"How was I supposed to tell you, House? Remember Tritter, you pretending to detox. It was a little hard. And, you were so… unapproachable." His face reddened. He remembered his words about calling her an awful mother. That must have been sometime after her miscarriage. He shifted his body on the couch.

"You kept saying you weren't pregnant." He put his hand on her shoulder.

"I was." She said. Lisa shrugged his hand off her. "I carried almost to the third month."

"Where did you lose the baby?"

"At home. Here." She pointed to the couch. The memories of herself spread out, her uterus contracting in pain. Screaming alone. Holding the arm of the chair for support. Red blood clotting against a white towel, the fetus was the size of her thumb.

"Cuddy." He rubbed his knuckles on her check.

"Stop." She said.

"You should have called me." He said, "I could have…"

"You couldn't do anything." She stood then, walking toward the kitchen.

She heard him talking loudly from the other room, "Did you call an OBGYN? Did you find out the reason?

"No."

'What _did_ you do, Cuddy?" He was screaming now.

"I stayed home!" She yelled back. "I'm a doctor. I knew what was happening. I started spotting at work, and I left early… and…"

"You should have stayed at the hospital." He voice was hard, biting.

"House!" She stamped her foot out of frustration.

His eyes were intense. Focused on her. He sat in her kitchen chair. "They could have made you…comfortable."

"Sometimes people want to be in pain." She said.

"No. They don't."

"I killed that baby!"

"What?" He looked at her in disbelief. He grabbed her hand, and pulled her beside him. "I'm pretty sure you did not cause a miscarriage, Cuddy. That far into a pregnancy." His eyes lit up then. His mind fired off possibilities. "It may have been cervical incompetence? Could have 

been early preeclampsia? We can treat those things medically. Maybe you will need a cerclage? IV sodium bicarbonate? You won't miscarry," he said. He voice was confident, exact.

She stood above him and wrapped her arms around his head pulling him into her abdomen. He resisted her hug and continued to prescribe. "You'll need bed rest. Low levels of stress, definitely. You'll have to leave work at five months, at least. We can hire you a stay at home aide."

"I'm not leaving work." She said, letting go of his head.

"You trust me?" He said. "You told Emma Sloan that if you could pick anyone that you trusted to save your baby it would be me."

"How…how did you remember that?"

"What I say goes." His voice sounded final. He stood and limped to her kitchen door. He went to leave, but said, "You're not losing this baby." He closed the door behind him and Cuddy was left alone in her kitchen to think about House's unpredictable role in her pregnancy.


	12. Chapter 12

Her pager went off at 5:55pm. It was him. She ran to exam room two and opened the door. He was sitting on the exam table, twirling his cane. "You answered my booty call. Me likey." He awkwardly hopped off the table with the help of his cane, on one foot. "Well, that wasn't as finesse as I thought it would be." She stood in the doorway.

"You going to get on the table?"

She went to lay down, her flat belly exposed. Her bruise was yellowing, healing. He rolled the ultrasound machine over to her and sat on the stool by her. He squirted the jelly onto her stomach, it felt cool and soothing. He turned on the machine, the blank screen hummed to life. He took the wand in his hand. "Ready?" She nodded. Her breath hitched as he moved the wand up and down her abdomen.

"Bingo!" He shouted. The wand stopped on her left side of her body. There was a mass on the screen. A small blip, the size of a grape, even smaller. She scooted up to see the screen. He faced it more towards her and pointed. She followed his finger with her hands. Touching the screen made it real for her, her baby. She smiled. "Oh." He captured the image and removed the wand. He took a towel from cabinet and wiped the excess gel away. He extended the picture to her, "For the scrapbook, huh?"

"Yeah."

"You feeling okay? Any morning sickness, tiredness, cramping?"

"I'm fine. I feel that I need to eat more than usual."

"Pretty soon you'll be as fat as a prize pig."

"Wow. Thanks for the self-esteem booster."

"Look on the bright side, your boobs will be amazing." He studied her chest, "They're already swelling?"

"Is it noticeable?" Lisa asked, putting an arm across her chest.

House blushed. "Only to people who truly have an intimate relationship with your breasts, i.e. me and you."

"How am I going to tell people?"

"Memo?" He suggested.

"Sure." She countered, "How would that go? Dear board members, employees and friends. I am a forty-something, unmarried, knocked up woman." She rolled her eyes.

"Well, no. Just say the truth. That you have been trying IVF and you have finally conceived and tell them the due date and such and such."

"I don't want to tell them that the baby was conceived though IVF, that's not the truth."

"You want to tell them I'm the Daddy? Are you serious?"

"No."

"What then?"

"People will judge me. They'll call me desperate. They won't respect me."

"Cuddy. If people really feel that way, then they aren't worth your time. This baby is good for you. People will be happy that you're happy, just say you're happy."

"Okay."

He went to the exam room door, propping it open.

His voice was soft, "Are you happy?"

She smiled and nodded. "Yes."

He bowed his head. "Good."  
--

Lisa's hair was tied in an elastic. She hunched over the bowl. Dry heaves. Her throat collapsing and opening quickly with no relief. This feeling had been happening all through the second and third month of her pregnancy. Lisa just wished she could vomit. This was worse. Hovering, demeaning.

She went back to her bed and lay down. She was still in her pajamas. It was a Saturday. She heard a rasp at the door. She knew it was House. She stood now and answered. When she let him in, his eyes went to her breasts. They looked strained in the tank; she didn't have maternity clothes yet but she was showing. She looked fuller, her belly protruded slightly and you could see a touch of skin between her top and bottom.

"Hey. You sleeping?"

"Resting." She replied. "What's up?" House didn't know about the morning sickness. He asked her every week how she was doing and she lied. She didn't want him to worry. He was carrying a brown paper bag and a file.

"We need to discuss your OBGYN options."

"House, I know all the doctors at my hospital. What…" she pointed to the file.

"Stats." He answered. "Your cousin's doctor, Patterson, had the highest infant mortality rate. She's like the grim reaper, cuts the umbilical cord with a scythe. Don't pick her."

"And, you want Kohl?"

"He's the best."

"He's smug." Lisa answered.

"He has the right to be."

"I thought you…excuse me." She said. She ran to the bathroom and closed the door and locked it behind her. She could hear him follow into her bedroom; her head over the porcelain bowl, heaving. He knocked.

"Go away." She yelled.

"Come on, Cuddy."

She unlocked the door. He could hear the lock being undone and he waited a moment before he went him. He looked at the toilet. It was empty. He sat on the side of the tub. She started heaving again to no avail. He stood and opened her medicine cabinet. He handed her a toothbrush. "Stick it down and make yourself vomit. It'll relieve the pressure. You'll feel better." He hobbled back to the tub.

Lisa looked at the brush like it was an alien object. "Go ahead," he encouraged. She jabbed the brush into her mouth and all the way back to her throat quickly. The heaving feeling was induced, but this time she could feel liquid gurgling up and down her esophagus. Her mouth burned as bile came up. Vomit landed in the toilet, splashing. She was so embarrassed in front of House, sweating, in her pajamas blowing chunks into the toilet. She was still breathing heavily from the exertion of making herself vomit. She collapsed over the bowl, "Augh." She moaned.

"Why don't you lie down?" He offered.

She didn't respond. She rose and walked to her room, flopping on the bed sprawled spread eagle. She heard a flush from the other room. He hobbled into your bedroom. "You look pathetic."

"You weren't thinking that when I opened the door for you." Lisa said it before she could censor herself. She felt stupid, "What I meant was…"

"No, I was thinking I'd like to take advantage of a hormone-riddled pregnant woman today. And, since you are the only one I know…"

"We can go with Kohl, if you like him." She flopped on her side now.

"Good. Because I already made an appointment for you on Wednesday of next week." He chirped, "It's early, 7am."

He walked out of her bedroom, but she hardly noticed. She just wanted to rest. The morning sickness was horrible. During the week she would lock herself in her office and emerge around noontime when it had subsided. She couldn't believe she made it all these months without House noticing. She could hear him in her kitchen, opening and closing cupboards. He must be stealing some food, she thought.

Moments later her returned, eating a sandwich he made courtesy of her kitchen. He had a mug in his hand. She sat up and he handed it to her, holding the top and letting her grab the handle. "Peppermint tea. It helps with the morning sickness."

"I don't have peppermint tea?"

"I bought it for you."

"You?" She started to cry then. It was so unexplainable, even to her, that a cup of tea could drive Lisa to tears. "You bought it for me?" She was sobbing now, trying to wipe her eyes.

"This is like some awful Lifetime movie. My soaps are better than this." She started chuckling at him.

"I'm sorry. I just… can't help." She grabbed a tissue from her nightstand and blew into it. "I'm just really emotional now."

"You think?" He said. "Well, as fun as this has been for me, I've reached the irrational pregnant woman quota for the day. Drink the tea every morning before you do anything."

"How did you know?"

"Everyone gets morning sickness in some form, Cuddy. And, the fact that you are such a little lire, trying to spare me worrying about you."

Lying back down and pulling up the covers, she was snug under the sheets. "Do you worry about me?" She asked, serious.

"Go to sleep, Cuddy." He sighed. He turned her bedroom light off and walked himself out of her house as she went back to sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

Lisa stood at the reception desk. The lobby was quite large with burgundy carpeting and black and white photos of pregnant women, their large stomachs exposed. Some were portraits of husbands, children and a pregnant mother. All these women glowed; holding their stomachs with a secret smile that they knew what it was like to carry a new life. Lisa wondered if she looked as sacrosanct. "Can I help you?" The receptionist was a frumpy woman with thick brown glasses that were shaped like cat eyes. She wore a lime green blouse and a large gemmed Crucifix.

"Yes." Lisa responded, "I'm Dr. Cuddy. I was inquiring about signing up for a Lamaze class here."

"Oh. Sure, dear. How far along are you?"

"Sixth months." Lisa smiled.

"Well, do you have any questions about our institute here?"

"I'm a doctor, so I know of your reputation," She said. "You are probably one of the best family birth centers on the east coast."

"Oh, let me get an application for you then." The receptionist smiled, exposing a ban of straight white teeth.

When Lisa was done filling out the form in the lobby, she returned to the receptionist desk. The woman took the application and began to flip through. "You don't have anything under husband?"

"I don't have a husband." Lisa responded cooly.

"Oh _dear_!" The receptionist cried. "You must have known that this institute is a Christian affiliated private organization and we only service _families_, not single mothers."

"I wasn't aware…" Lisa began to back out of the lobby, "Thank you."

Lisa speed-walked to her car, and sat in the driver seat. Her hands trembled as she put the key in the ignition. She was so embarrassed and frustrated. Her face was flushed, her ears red with anger. On the road, she felt the emergence of tears, a weak feeling stayed in her chest from holding them back. She parked in front of his apartment.

When he answered the door, she collapsed into his arms—crying. House was intensely confused. He stood there, silent, holding her body up from the ground. All her weight shifted onto him and his leg was sore. "Are you experiencing pre-term labor? Spotting?"

"No." She pushed past him and sat on his couch. She was hyperventilating. He sat beside her and put his hand on her shoulder. "You need to calm down, Lisa. This is not good for the baby."

"You don't care!" She was wailing, "You don't care about me or the baby!" She began to rise off the couch, "I don't know why I'm even here!" She was speed-walking to the door.

"Stop!" House cried. He limped behind her. They were in the hall. "For Christ's sake, Cuddy!" She stopped, her hyperventilating became worse. "I feel dizzy," she said.

"Because you're being an idiot."

He grabbed her hand and dragged her into his apartment. He lay her down on his bed and entered from the other side. He wrapped his arms around her as best he could. She was shaking. "Calm down," he said. His tone was angry, chiding. House held her tight to his chest and began 

to breathe deeply into his diaphragm. "Breathe slowly. Mimic me." The first couple breaths were difficult for Lisa, but then they were breathing together in a rhythm. He let go of her and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling and his hands under his head.

"You want something to drink?"

"No." Her voice sounded like a squeak.

"What was that, Cuddy?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

He moved closer to her. His fingertips began to dance along her shoulder to her wrist. He took her wrist between his fingers and found her vein. Her pulse had slowed to resting. His hands longingly wanted to touch her stomach ever since she began showing and wearing her maternity clothes. He didn't know how she would respond to his touch, whether she would find it a comfort or an offense. He didn't want to upset her. He put his hand on her hip, resting. They lay like that for a while.

"I can't take classes at The New Jersey Christian Family Birth Center."

"Why?"

"I'm a single mother."

"Take classes somewhere else, then."

"I wanted to take classes there."

"Do you still want to?"

"No."

"What about the rec center by my apartment? They have sessions." He sat up on the bed now, his upper body against the board. "Why do you want to take classes anyways? You're a doctor, you know what labor and delivery involves. Those stupid classes make you watch videos of women birthing, gross."

"I wanted to take Lamaze. Learn some of the positions. My cousin didn't take a birthing course and that was why she was so unprepared and nervous. I need to have a birthing plan," she paused, "… and, I need, well, I will probably need a doula." She answered.

"Why do you need a doula?"

"To stay with me at the birth. Someone you hire to support you."

"I know what a doula is and their function." He huffed, "Why waste your money on some doula. I can do that."

"Do what?"

"Support you."

She laughed out loud. "That's rich, House."

"What? I did it for your cousin."

"No. You didn't. You just happened to be there when she was pushing. And then you got a kid named after you because you saved the day. Labor is more than a few moments, House."

"Really? Wow. Dr. Cuddy. Thank you. You're so smart."

"Are you upset?" She asked.

"No. I just don't trust some stranger you pay to help."

"They are trained in Lamaze and massage, something which you know nothing about. So, I'm supposed to pick you over a professional? The only way I would take you is if you went to the classes."

"I'll go to the classes if you take an hour off clinic for every hour I spend at the class a week."

She sat up in his bed. "We're not making a deal, here."

"Do you want me to go with you to the classes or not?"

"I want you to make a decision about your role in all this." She was serious. She couldn't believe her forwardness. Almost immediately, she regretted pushing him. "I'm sorry, House. Just forget about it, okay?" She said. She was sure that he saw himself as no more than a sperm donor that just happened to also be friends with her. He was quiet, the two of them sat in the dark bedroom.

"I want to be at the birth." He said.

"Okay…" She continued, "So, you're saying that you will take the classes?"

"I'll take the classes."

She hugged him, then, tight. He smirked, "I'm sure I'll find some way to make them more enjoyable. And also to make every couple in the classes hate me."

"Huh?" She yawned. "Oh, I'm sure you will." She kissed his cheek, the stubble brushing her soft lips.

--

They stood in front of the coffee table in the corner of the room.

There were three other couples besides House and Cuddy in the class. "This place is fucked." Whispered House to her, "Everyone's so happy. Look at that guy." He pointed to a man, his wife sitting between his legs. He was rubbing her tummy and kissing her on the cheek. "House." She warned.

"Hello everybody, I'm Deb." The voice was child-like, high-pitched and sing-song. The Lamaze instructor was a woman in her forties. She had long, straight brown hair that reached to her backside. She wore it in a pony tail. She was thin and tall and she wore a tie-dyed skirt and flowing cotton shirt.

"Oh great. Cuddy, the Lamaze instructor's a wacko."

"Stop."

"Take a seat on the floor here. Dad's help mom's get down it's hard for them to sit because sometimes the baby presses down on their pelvis. Oh, look at these two sit." They were a young couple in their twenties. The woman was in front, she leaned into the man and he guided her down in one motion, supporting her weight. "Excellent job!" shrieked the instructor.

Lisa looked at House; she wasn't quite sure how she and he were going to do this. They were no twenty year old couple. House eyed the floor. He took her hand and guided her down gently. When she was settled, he put his hand on her shoulder and lowered himself, slowly, painfully, pressing down on her hard.

"You two." She pointed to House and Lisa. "You need to sit behind her, not next to her."

She moved in front of him. "Okay. Now. We are going to go around the room and introduce ourselves. Couples can say anything they want about their partners. We want to foster a community of openness."

"I'm Jenna and this is my husband Wayne." He waved at the other couples.

"Hi, Wayne." House said in a monotone, support group voice. Lisa jabbed him with her elbow.

"Let's see. I'm twenty-four years old. I just graduated from college. This is our first baby."

"We're excited to be here." Wayne added.

The man that House pointed out before spoke. "I'm Jeff and this is my lovely wife, Maggie. We've been married five years now. And this is our first baby."

"I'm Monica." Said the woman from the third couple. "I'm eight months pregnant and ready to pop this kid out."

"My name's Paul. I'm Monica's husband. This is baby #2."

The other couples directed their attention toward Lisa and House. He could feel her stiffening over him. Silence.

"Hi!" He said cheerily, to the point of being obnoxious. "I'm Greg House. This is my bestest friend in the whole wide world, Lisa Cuddy."

"I'm seven months pregnant." Lisa whispered.

"Great." The Lamaze instructor sat down in a folding chair in front of the classroom. "Having a baby is a major life decision. We need to be reflective about bringing a new life into the world. Childbirth can really be a spiritual and loving experience for a couple. What I'd like to do now is go around and say what this baby means to you. We'll start with Wayne and Jenna."

"Our baby is a symbol of our love." Said Jenna.

House started laughing. Cuddy hit his foot with her fist and then he coughed. When people stared, he said, "allergies."

"I'm really excited to teach the kid how to play sports." said Wayne.

"Maggie and I can't wait to have this baby." Maggie soon followed, "It feels like we're finally completing our marriage happiness."

"Monica and I are glad to have another addition to our family," said Paul.

"Our first son is four now," said Monica.

"This baby means a lot to me. I tried to get pregnant for a long time." Lisa put her hand on her stomach, "It's a gift, really."

"This baby is a symbol of my humanity!" Said House, clearly mocking Jenna's earlier comments. The others in the room did not know House, so they stared at him, confused by his answer. Lisa was mortified.

"How does this baby prove your humanity, Mr. House?" said Deb. Lisa grabbed his ankle hard and squeezed. She didn't want him to embarrass his in from of the other couples.

"This baby is one of the first things I've done outside of myself that was good." He sounded serious. Lisa felt flushed, her face registered surprise.

"That's so sweet!" Said Jenna.

"Alright. We are going to practice our first exercise. This is called positive reinforcement. Husbands, your wife is having a contraction and she is in a lot of pain. I want you to say something that will get them to focus. Touch them; let them know you are here for them. This is the most basic thing the birthing coach can do, we'll be practicing this for the next 15 minutes and then the next couple classes we will move on to positioning, body message the following week, the birth process—which we will view a video and have you choose a birth plan (homebirth, water birth, hospital, with or without an epidural), and then the last class will be a preparation in taking baby home and adjusting to life as no longer a couple. Alright! So, all couples spread out if you have to and go ahead and start the positive reinforcement exercise."

House observed Wayne and Jenna. He had his hands on Jenna's stomach and kept yelling, "Come on, Honey. You can do it! I believe in you!"

Jeff was messaging Maggie's shoulders and he was whispering something to her between kissing her neck and cheek. Paul took out a picture of something, House assumed it was their first child, and he was comforting Monica.

"What should I do?" He asked Lisa.

"Whatever makes you comfortable," Lisa responded. She was regretting bringing House to this. Wilson would have been a much better choice. She wondered if it would suspicious if she switched her partner next class. The baby's Uncle Jimmy? Did people actually think she and House were married?

Deb stood over the two of them. "Are you two having trouble? Why don't you show me your positive reinforcement routine?"

House put his hand on her shoulder and pumped his fist in the air, "Come on, Cuddy. Drugs are on the way!" She laughed out loud, snorting. She could feel House chuckling silently behind her.

"Although that is a good thing to remind her of, you need to be more present for your partner. Flippant comments in the delivery room are often the least effective. Show a little more affection. Touch mom's tummy, okay?" Deb began to walk away from them.

"You… you don't have to do that, House." She put her hand on his knee and squeezed, "You're fine."

He took his hand and gently placed it on her stomach. The place he'd wanted to touch for four months now. Somehow, Lamaze made this intimacy sanctioned. His fingers spread 

over her hump like palming a basketball. He wished that a layer of clothes were not separating his hand from her skin, their baby.

Lisa gasped. His touch was thoughtful, reverent. She was surprised, this was the first time he had ever touched her stomach since she got pregnant.

House added his other hand. He whispered in her ear, "I'll do all my clinic hours this week if you stop screaming."

They both began to laugh aloud now. He could feel her stomach rumble under his hands. The baby kicked. He stopped laughing; shocked. A look of amazement crossed his face. Lisa, her back to him, could not see.

He kept his hand on her. He had to say something new to see if the baby would kick again. "Come into the world with ease. Don't be stubborn like your mother."

The baby kicked again. Lisa smiled. She knew it was House's voice that was inspiring this movement. The baby seemed to come alive when he spoke in her ear.

"Lisa and Greg seemed to have found their routine!" Cried Deb.


	14. Chapter 14

The time had come for Lisa to open her presents; a set of ooohhs and awwws just for her. Mary was her gift organizer, dutifully writing down on the cards which presents went with which names. Michelle held Morgan House LePointe in her arms. The party was small as there was only one side of the family and friends in attendance, only about twenty five women. A home shower hosted by Lisa herself. Just cake and coffee, no frills, no registry. Neutral yellow and green pastels steamers hung from the ceiling. The sex of the baby was not revealed, at least not to Lisa. Although, she was sure House had somehow gotten the information either from stealing her chart or bribing Kohl.

"Okay," said Lisa. "This gift is from my Aunt Cherri." She tore open the gift bag, "It's a hat and bootie set!"

"Awww," cried the crowd in unison.

"And, we're done. Finally." Mary announced.

The cake had yet to be cut, so the party went into Lisa's dining room. The cake was ordered by Wilson. A grand gesture on his behalf after he finally discovered, after eight months of intense investigation and brow-beating, that the baby was House's. And, of course, he was thrilled to be considered its "Uncle Jimmy". The cake was decorated in light blue and pink flowers and read, "Congratulations Lisa! Happiness, Health and Love to You and Your Baby."

Lisa's mother read the inscription aloud to the party. "How nice of Dr. Wilson," she said aloud. The cake was a large sheet cake that was intended to feed fifty. Wilson's stipulation was that the cake be cut only on the "Congratulations Lisa" part and that the left-over would later be given to House as a celebration of his role in the entire hullabaloo. Wilson was tickled at the 

thought of House receiving a cake with light blue and pink flowers that read, "Happiness, Health and Love to You and Your Baby."

When the guests had left, Lisa, her mother, cousins and aunt were left to clean-up duty. Lisa was in the bathroom, a room which she spent the majority of her time nowadays. Lisa's mother took one last look at the cake. She said, "Such a nice man, that Dr. Wilson. She could have married him. There could have been two names on that cake."

"There are two names," said Mary. Her tone was astute, academic. "Lisa's and the baby."

"Mary." Warned her mother.

"What Mother?" She rolled her eyes, "Seriously, this is Lisa's special day. We shouldn't end a perfectly good party, especially a baby shower, with cynicism."

Mrs. Cuddy was clearly put-off by Mary's remarks. Her face was red with anger. She pointed the cake knife at Mary, shaking the blade in her face. "You better watch out or you're going to end up like your cousin Lisa. Alone, without a man, having a baby in the middle of your life."

"Mother?" Lisa's voice came out small. She was standing in the hallway, vulnerable and beaten. Her hand lay protectively on her stomach.

"What?" She answered in a tone of disbelief, as if she were shocked that anything she said could have been construed as negative. "Mary needs to be put in her place," she affirmed.

"I think this is my house and you all should leave. Now." Anger was the only emotion that Lisa could register. She was seeing colors. The baby moved, stirring to life, preparing for a fight. "Get out!" Lisa screamed.

Mary was the savior of the moment. "Let's go. Let's go." She repeated, gathering everyone in her family like a heard dog and pushing them to the door. Aunt Cherri was holding the arm of her sister. Mrs. Cuddy wailed as if she was in labor, crying out. "At least you had one child who lived a good life, Cherri." Cherri was pushing her sister out the door, slamming it on Mary in the hopes of drowning out Mrs. Cuddy's tirade. Though, she could still be heard through the windows in Lisa's house. "Michelle did the right things at the right time!"

"Jesus Fuck Christ!" Screamed Mary, shaking her hands in the air. "Your mother is a fucking nightmare!"

Lisa was silent. She stood still in the hall. "Lise?" Mary looked at her cousin with concern.

"You need to go with the family." She was sobbing, "You don't want to be like me." She waddled into her bedroom. Mary followed her, but the horn of Michelle's minivan sounded. Mary rationalized that the best thing was to get Mrs. Cuddy out of the situation, that nothing she could say to Lisa would sound comforting. She ran after the family van which was already pulling out into the street.

Lisa was alone, huddled on her bed.

--

House sat at his piano with a glass of bourbon. He was composing. Banging notes. Writing them down. Stringing together lines of a melody that sounded—ethereal. Never had his work sounded, light, playful. Playing a high C, the phone rang.

House let the answering machine get it. He was screening, of course. Why let some idiot, probably someone he works for, ruin his good mood? If it was someone important, they would leave a message or call his cell. The machine beeped.

"Hi." It was the voice of a girl. House stopped playing.

"This is Mary. Lisa's cousin. I don't know if this is your number Dr. House…"

He scrambled toward the phone, leaving his cane on the bench. He was breathing heavily from the dash. "Hello?" He breathed. "Is she having the baby?"

"No."

"Why are you calling, then?" His tone registered as anger.

"I'm sorry to bother you."

"Fine. Whatever kid. Obviously, you have a reason to call?"

"Something awful happened at the shower and I think Lisa needs a friend right now."

"Why are you calling me?" He asked.

"Because." She said, "Do I need a reason? Can't you just be concerned for Lisa? I guess I could call Dr. Wilson…"

"No."

"Are you going to check on her, then?" House could hear that her voice was urgent, pleading.

"What happened?"

"I can't go into detail." House heard a woman yelling in the background,  
"I have to go!" She abruptly hung up the phone. House stared at the receiver, puzzled. He immediately dialed Cuddy's number. The dial tone beeped in his ear. She must have taken the phone off its hook. Panicked, he quickly grabbed his cane and bike keys, leaving the unfinished melody he was composing.

At her house now, he searched for the spare key under the plant. When he tried the door, it was unlocked. The lights were on all throughout the house. The decorations were still hung. In the corner of the room, there was a tower of presents stacked from the day's festivities. Cake plates lined the living room. He was silent, unsure if he should make his presence known to Cuddy.

Instead, he walked into the kitchen. The cake was still out, sitting on her kitchen table. He read the inscription, "Happiness, Health and Love to You and Your Baby." He smiled. He was sure that this message was meant for him as well, knowing Wilson, it was probably some stipulation. He was such a loser! House put the left-over in the fridge and took a trash bag from her cabinet. He went through her House, cleaning, throwing away anything that would remind her of today.

Her door was closed. He hesitated, on the brink of entering Cuddy's nightmare. He wondered if he was the one that should be picking up the pieces after today's events. He figured that knocking was worthless. She knew it would be him.


	15. Chapter 15

The door creaked open. She heard him in her house, the unmistakable sounds of his cane thudding as he walked from her living room to her kitchen. She was positioned on her back, her stomach so large that she was unable to stay comfortable on her side. Lisa could not see her feet over the gigantic hill.

She could not move, paralyzed. Acknowledging his presence would invite the notion that she existed outside in the world, beyond the symbiotic relationship of mother and child. A world that frowned upon a broken home, a single mother. If her own mother could not accept her situation, it was hard for Lisa to believe that many people would not look at her with some prejudice. Sometimes, she felt dirty.

"Cuddy?" His voice was low, a wake-up call. She felt the bed dip on the opposite side. He put his hand on her forehead; his backhand rubbed a knuckle against her cheek.

"Why are you here?" She asked.

"Mary called me."

"You know then?"

"She couldn't say much."

"I'm fine. Just tired. My back hurts. That's all."

"My mental notes from our Lamaze class say that Deb told all moms that when their backs hurt they shouldn't lie down. That lying down as a treatment was a common myth of pregnancy."

"You paid attention?"

"She also told you to go to your 'happy place' when you were in pain. What was your happy place again, Cuddy? Oh, right. That mental image of me naked. I could take my clothes off for you. Just tell me you need me. Now."

She smiled.

"You should at least try the positions and the massage," he added quickly.

"Yeah." She rolled her eyes, "I'll get right on that."

"Come on." House extended his hand to her.

"No." She moaned. "Just let me be." She closed her eyes, hoping that she would disappear into a place of solitude.

"Tell me what happened. Why did Mary feel like she needed to call me?"

She rolled her upper body to the inside of the bed, extending her legs over the side. She shimmied her butt to the edge and then grabbed on to the bed post as she tried to raise her body. This was how she had been getting out of bed the last couple of weeks. House stared at her, smirking. Her hand went to her lower back, her face scrunched in pain. She waddled into the living room, her hand still on the small of her back. She could feel House stepping behind her.

"You cleaned?" She asked, surprised.

"Yeah." His face flushed.

Lisa stood behind the couch and put both her hands on its back. She arched her body, making an inverted "L" with her hands and legs. She swung her hips back and forth, breathing heavily. He stood behind her now, looming above her.

"What happened Cuddy?"

"House." She stopped swaying and instead moved her body up and down and if she were humping the couch. She was moaning. She knew she looked pathetic, but her back felt as if her muscles were snapping apart.

"Lisa," His voice sounded laced with concern.

"My mother doesn't think this pregnancy was a good decision."

"So what?" House dropped his hand on her back, touching lightly.

"I'm alone." She croaked. She passed out over the couch, her face in her hands. She wasn't crying; she was too tied to cry. She felt his hand, pushing down now, providing counter pressure. He cupped her back with both his hands and began kneading into her body. Her backside rose to reach him. Lisa began to swivel her hips along with his ministrations. She hadn't felt this much relief in weeks.

He moved from her lower back up to her shoulder blades, then her shoulders until he was rubbing her arms. On top of her now, she could feel his arousal against her backside. He moved her hair and kissed her neck. Now placing light butterfly kisses, scratching her with his stubble, his nose against her skin breathing in her scent. She shuddered under him. He embraced her from behind putting his hands on her stomach now, one thumb flicking her nipple. A sigh escaped from her lips. "We're fulfilling kinky fantasy #11 for me right now. Having sex with a very pregnant Lisa Cuddy."

"Kiss me," she said.

She turned her face and he took her tongue deep into his mouth. Biting her lower lip on his release. His cane hit the floor. She could feel her underwear being pushed down and her dress being pulled over into her midsection. Her backside bear to him, he cupped her cheek. His fingers on his other hand slid along her opening. She cried out. He slid a finger into her folds. She was moving above him now, so close. Another finger. "Now." She moaned. "Now," her backside bumped into him. He put his hand on her hump; his other grabbed his swollen member. "A little help," he croaked.

She guided him into her; they were fully pressed against the couch now. He fit inside her snug, not moving. She purposely clenched down on him, causing him to twitch in her. He pumped in and out in a fast rhythm, not pulling out all the way, afraid that they would somehow get detached. He messaged her clit between his thumb and pointer finger. She was shaking, her orgasm coursing through her body, her walls closing in over his penis. "Greg!" He came into her, then. The sound of her screaming his first name burned his ears. He collapsed on top of her, all his weight against her frame. He kissed her shoulder and said, "You are not alone."


End file.
